


Snorting lines of powdered love

by MsPeppernose



Series: Panties 'verse [3]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Panty Kink, Skype, Voyeurism, long-distance fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6044692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete gets restless and itchy when he doesn’t work. But he gets even more restless, itchy and <i>horny</i> when he and Patrick are apart. He’s mid-way through his transatlantic flight when he realises it will be days and days and days before they see each other again, let alone have time enough for a sneaky fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snorting lines of powdered love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jiksa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jiksa/gifts).



> Shameless porn to distract myself. Also because panties.

Pete is often away from Patrick. It’s the nature of their job. They spend vast portions of time together, living almost on top of each other, in each other’s pockets, and then large amounts of time apart because of breaks in touring and other commitments. 

When the band is on time off, Patrick tends to stay away from the limelight, basking in quiet music-making time among other things. Pete is less good at switching off the celebrity button and ends up doing random press and promo, sometimes just for something to do.

Which is how he ends up in London and a guest DJ for a prestigious club, and yes, it’s a pretty fucking long way to go for less than a weekend’s worth of work, but he doesn’t care all that much.

What he does care about is how much he misses Patrick. 

Pete gets restless and itchy when he doesn’t work. But he gets even more restless, itchy and _horny_ when he and Patrick are apart. He’s mid-way through his transatlantic flight when he realises it will be days and days and days before they see each other again, let alone have time enough for a sneaky fuck. 

So Pete is thrilled when there’s a gift box waiting for him in his plush London hotel room. The card just says _P_ on it, and that could be _P_ for Pete, but Pete feels in his guts that it’s not. He’s sure it’s a _P_ for Patrick, to signify the sender, meaning Patrick has organised something awesome.

Pete instantly dials Patrick’s number without another thought.

“Hey, asshole,” Pete says before Patrick can even speak. “I got your gift.”  
“Gift?” Patrick asks, trying to sound innocent through the sleep in his voice. Pete looks at his watch and remembers that time difference exist and Patrick was probably sleeping. It’s early morning in London, but late for Patrick in LA.  
“Yeah. Pretty box with a card that just has the letter P on it?”  
“Yeah, that’s from me. You like it?”  
“I don’t know yet. Will I open it?”  
“You didn’t open it yet? Why?”  
“I thought I’d wait for you.”  
"How did you manage to not open it yet?” Patrick asks disbelievingly. “You have the attention span of a gnat.”

Pete ignores him and just rolls his eyes down the phone. He might have the attention span of a gnat when it comes to most things, but he’s trained himself to be more focussed when it comes to Patrick.

He fiddles with the ribbon on the box and then he can’t help himself. He switches to speakerphone and sits down on the bed ready to unwrap his gift. He’s gotten boxes like this from Patrick before, but this looks extra special. He’s so excited as he peels back the faded gold tissue paper carefully and inside is…wow. 

Pete feels a flush in his cheeks at even the thought of what these gifts might mean. “Jesus, Patrick. This might be the best surprise gift I’ve ever gotten.” It’s certainly the hottest.

First, he picks up a pair of pink, lace short-shorts and dangles them from one finger, grinning, then stretches them out to have a good look. They’re fucking perfect, and just what he knows Patrick likes him in. A little thrill runs through him when he thinks about wearing them, how they’re going to feel against his skin, how good his dick will look in them. But another thrill cuts him in half when he picks up the purple bullet vibrator.

His brain can’t quite compute yet that Patrick organised this, meaning he probably _talked to concierge_ about it. Patrick’s a super private guy, and while he’s sure the concierge of a plush hotel has seen far worse requests, the fact that Patrick did this is mind-blowing. 

On the other end of the phone, Patrick is silent and Pete knows he’s grinning, even if it’s sleepily.

“Jesus, Patrick,” he says again. He switches the vibe on and lets it vibrate in his hand, feeling the vibrations run through his palm, his fingers. It’s a relatively small vibe, not quite dick-sized, but he _knows_ it’s going to feel amazing when he gets to use it on himself. Speaking of which.

“Can I try it now?”  
“If you want. But I’m going back to sleep.”  
“Why?” Pete asks, outraged. He’s already forgotten about time zones.  
“It’s too late for me, Pete. I’m too tired to give it my full attention.” Patrick yawns the last word and Pete knows he’s not lying. And it’s possible Patrick’s already jerked off before bed. Pete knows that’s his ritual when they don’t have phone-sex. “After your DJ thing?”

That’s fucking hours away, and Pete whines in protest. He may die from blue balls before that, so he tells Patrick so. Patrick laughs, tells him to go jerk off if he must. And _of course_ Pete does, and as his hand moves furiously, he thinks of how he’s going to fuck himself on that little vibrator, on webcam for Patrick to see.

He puts on his new pink panties right before he leaves for his DJ gig. He can feel them every time he moves, and there’s a fair amount of moving to be done. There’s pre-set drinks where he talks with the promoter, some London-people he knows at the club. There’s moving around through the club, past so many people, none of whom know Pete’s little secret. 

He feels the lace against his hips when he turns in the DJ booth, pivots to get something from behind him. He feels it against his balls if he bends or sits down. He feels it against his ass every time he slides his phone in or out of his back pocket.

He texts Patrick and tells him - numerous times - how good they feel. All he ever receives back from Patrick is _Good. See you later._.

The _See you_ is not in person, but they’re perfecting the art of being intimate via phone and skype. It’s actually incredibly fun, and Pete likes to think of it as his own pay-per-view as he watches Patrick do dirty, sinful things on screen, just for his viewing pleasure.

When Pete gets back to his hotel room, he’s buzzing. His gig went amazingly well, the crowd in the club eating up whatever tunes he played. He’s had a few beers, but nothing that will affect his mood or movements. He’s just in a fantastic humour; everything has gone so well today, and he has sexy skype to look forward to. 

Patrick’s online when Pete switches his laptop on, but he gets himself ready before he calls. He kicks off his shoes, removes his socks and flannel. He sits on the bed trying contain his excitement. He places the laptop on the bed and dials up Patrick, and attempts to sit still while he waits for him to pick up.

“Hey,” Patrick says, the sound connecting before the picture does so Pete can’t see Patrick yet, can’t see where he is or what he’s wearing.  
“Hi, Trick,” Pete coos. The screen buffers and Patrick appears on the screen looking adorable. He’s propped up on his bed. It’s late at night for Pete of course, but it’s late afternoon for Patrick, and his bedroom is illuminated, the LA sun still streaming in the windows.  
“How was your DJ thing?”  
“Amazing. Really good fun. They want me to come back to do another night but I told them I’d see. Maybe you could come too though if I come back?”  
“Maybe,” Patrick says brightly. “Glad it went well. How was the rest of your day?”  
Pete resists rolling his eyes, because this is small talk, and they’ve been texting all day anyway. “It was good. How was yours?” Pete is polite, even if he’s impatient.

“Good.” Patrick pauses and licks his lips. “Been thinking ‘bout you.”  
“Oh, yeah?” And as if Pete can be nonchalant right now. “Been thinking ‘bout you too. Can’t wait to see my very own porn show.”  
Patrick blushes, but he grins. There’s a hint of filth behind that grin that turns Pete’s temperature up. “It’s so not a porn show.”  
“It so fucking is, Stump. Seriously, I don’t think I’d be able to order better porn even in a fancy hotel like this. It’d be really, really expensive porn to get something like you.”  
Patrick laughs. “The good stuff?”  
“The really fucking good stuff,” Pete says. He rubs idly at his stomach, wants to touch himself in other places at the thought of Patrick staring in expensive porn. “I, uh, I have my panties on.”  
Patrick arches his eyebrow ever so slightly even though Pete told him by text already, shifts on the screen minutely. “Very good. You like ‘em?”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”  
“Show me?”

And it’s a question from Patrick, but Pete doesn’t take it that way, not that he was planning on _not_ showing Patrick. 

“Yeah,” is all Pete says. He gets off the bed and moves the laptop so that from his stomach to his knees is on the little window on the screen. He takes a breath, and he’s no idea why the first reveal of any new panties is a little nerve wrecking, but it is. 

He whips off his shirt so that his golden, flat tummy and bartskull are now on screen and watches Patrick’s face change. There’s a slight lean forward and a further eyebrow raise from Patrick, and Pete feels a warmth under his gaze even if it’s through a computer screen. 

He unbuttons his jeans and drops them to the floor, and as he stands up straight he _adjusts_ himself just a little, just so that his dick looks perfect in the panties and not all squashed up or peeking out the side or something; that’s less sexy. He glances back up at the screen and Patrick’s leaning completely forward now, maybe without realising, and he’s looking wide-eyed into the webcam.

“Fuck, Pete,” Patrick breathes.  
“You’re very fucking good at picking out underwear, Trick.”  
“Turn around?” Patrick says, ignoring Pete’s remark.

Pete does a slow half turn and stops when his back is to the camera. His ass muscles are clenched, and he’s upped his squat weight recently and he knows his ass looks okay. He wiggles it playfully, breaking the possibly serious tone, and he hears Patrick chuckle from the screen behind him. He would bend over a little do some more wiggling, but the fear is there that’s he’ll end up carried away and start doing some comedy twerking or something and ruin everything. So a little wiggle is enough, and when he turns around again to see the screen Patrick is biting his lip, eyes sparkling even if they’re pixilated.

"They look really fucking good on you.”  
“Thanks,” Pete blushes. “Can you take off your shirt?” he asks. And that’s the thing about skype or phone sex; the having to ask for everything. Pete would probably have Patrick’s shirt off and his hands all over Patrick’s chest already by now. Just thinking about Patrick’s skin, smooth under his hands, gets him all fired up, so it’s a delight when Patrick smirks and pulls his shirt off over his head.

It’s taken a while for Patrick to feel comfortable to do this on camera - even if it’s not recorded - but Pete is so fucking glad he’s okay with it now. Not even just because Pete gets to look and enjoy, but because Patrick should be comfortable with his body, with himself in everything he does. 

“Get up on the bed?” Patrick asks, and again, there’s a question in his tone, but of course Pete is going to comply.

That’s Pete’s cue. After moving the laptop to a much better position on the bed, he tries to display himself in a way that he thinks will look appealing. He channels all of the modelling poses he’s ever had to do, all the art directors moving his limbs, all the preening that sometimes feels silly in a photographic studio, and then ignores them all and thinks about porn instead. He sits propped up against the headboard, one arm above his head and his knees splayed. His other hand is on his stomach, right above the lace waistband of his panties. He’s waiting, and when he looks at computer screen he grins at Patrick. 

“Fuck, Patrick,” Pete breathes. “Been thinking about this all fucking day. You look so fucking good. Are you -- are you taking the rest of your clothes off?”  
“Yeah, I will be. Pete, you look amazing. Did you try out the vibrator yet?” Pete bites his lip and shakes his head. He’d jerked off _thinking about it_ but he didn’t use it. “Do you want to try it tonight?” Patrick asks.  
“Yeah, I figured that was the point of it being in the gift box? I’m excited to try it out,” he says, and he knows his voice gives away just how excited he is. “For you,” he adds.  
“For you too, Pete. Make sure you want to try this for yourself. Don’t just shove a vibrator in your ass for me, okay?”  
“Wait, so I’m supposed to put it is my ass?” Pete asks, and tries to sound as confused as possible. When Patrick reddens, Pete says, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding, Believe me, I’m not just doing it for you. I’m into it!” Because even if Pete would do anything for Patrick, they never do anything that they’re uncomfortable with, and that was something that was set early on. Pete’s boundaries are much wider than Patrick’s and he can’t remember actually saying no to anything. Patrick, on the other hand, has put his foot down a handful of times over some of Pete’s weirder ideas, usually things that might end up with them getting caught with their pants down.

“You want to show me, then?” Patrick asks.  
“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he says. “But can you take your pants off first?”

Patrick simpers. “Sure.” Pete watches him shift and wiggle on the bed and his jeans are gone. His underwear are still on though, which is…fine. Pete can deal with that because it’s lots more skin to look at. The sunlight in Patrick’s bedroom makes his pale skin glow, so his thighs look amazing and Pete finds himself staring, especially when Patrick runs his hands over the skin like he’s petting himself. Pete wishes he could bury his face in the crease of Patrick’s thigh and live there forever. Patrick’s also starting to get hard which is obvious from the way his boxer-briefs sit on him, and Pete’s so ready for more.

Not only is Pete ready, but he’s prepared too - unlike other times they’ve done this when Pete had to run off and get things in the middle, and once when the battery of his laptop ran out right when he was about to come, right before the money shot. Pete’s not sure that Patrick’s forgiven him for that yet. But he’s prepared today; he has his vibrator, lube, tissues and even a condom in case he doesn’t like the feeling of the silicone vibe. 

He pulls his dick out of his panties first and gives himself a few strokes, just warming up, and he notes how Patrick licks his lips so fucking gorgeously as he watches.

Patrick runs his tongue over his lips again as Pete flips the cap on the lube and smears some on his hand. Pete tries to keep as much eye-contact with the camera as he can so that this isn’t just him jacking off, so that Patrick is _included_ as much as possible, especially considering he’s the reason that Pete is so turned on.

He also doesn’t want to miss anything hot that Patrick does.

Pete’s fingers are slippery from it, which is kind of the point, but it means he ends up getting his panties all messy with lube before he wants to. He pulls them to the side so that he can get better access without having to take them off, and he knows the camera has a good view of what he’s about to do. He keeps his eyes on the screen - on Patrick who is biting his lip now, _watching_ \- and presses the tips of two fingers to his hole. He teases himself just a little, rubbing his fingers over the tight ring of muscle, and then he slips inside. His hips push forward automatically and he shuts his eyes, so he misses Patrick’s face, but he hears a whimper come through his laptop speakers. The sound encourages him to push his fingers in deeper, and he can feel a burn even when he’s inside only up to the second knuckle.

“Fuck, Pete,” Patrick says, and Pete opens his eyes again. They’ve only been closed for a second, but in that tiny moment, Patrick’s changed from looking fairly normal, to wanton and incredibly hot. Pete can see that his eyes are darker even on the crappy, low quality image, and he knows if he was there with Patrick he’d be able to see the sweat starting to bead on his forehead, on his upper lip.

Pete moves his fingers inside him slowly, slowly, most of it’s for show, but it feels really fucking good when he twists them just right, and he hams up his moans a little too. Not too much though; Patrick knows what Pete sounds like when he’s turned on so he can’t venture too far into fake-porn sounds because it turns out that actual real sounds are far hotter. Like, for example, the gorgeous little breathy sounds coming from Patrick Stump’s mouth right now that are a mixture of whimpers and bitten off, tiny moans. 

Patrick’s got his hand on himself now, and he’s stroking so slowly. He’s still not naked, and he hasn’t even pushed his boxers down very far. He’s just got his hand inside his underwear but Pete can see the flushed, shiny tip of Patrick’s dick on every stroke. 

Pete works his fingers into himself, fuelled by how hot Patrick looks, pushing and twisting and fucking himself down onto them, and it feels so fucking good. Better still when he watches Patrick touching himself to the sight of it, licking his full lower lip to Pete with his fingers in his ass. 

Patrick must get annoyed at his underwear, maybe they’re getting in the way, because he pulls his hand from them and shimmies them off. And _oh god_ , how Pete loves to see Patrick naked; naked in person, naked on his laptop screen, naked in his dreams. It never fucking matters. So Patrick’s gloriously naked on screen, and Pete’s so fucking fired up now looking over the soft, pale curves of Patrick’s hips and thighs, his pink nipples, his red-gold pubic hair. 

Pete’s fingers are no longer enough, he needs more. 

He tries to make the transition to the vibe as short as possible, and he manages to get KY everywhere in his haste, all over his gorgeous lacy shorts, but who gives a shit now?

Pete eases the vibrator inside, and it’s cold compared to his fingers, rock hard and slick with KY. It slides in so easily, a little too easily; he has to slow down to keep up the show for Patrick. He watches the screen, watches Patrick bite his lip, watches Patrick’s hand squeeze his cock. He can’t really pretend the vibe is Patrick’s dick - shiny, cold silicone feels nothing like the solid heat of a hard cock - but he thinks about Patrick sinking inside him as he pushes the vibe inside him anyway.

He still has the vibrator turned off, it’s still silent and unmoving inside him, but as Pete watches Patrick’s hand start to move slowly on himself, he turns the vibrator on. It’s on a low settling, but the vibrations shock right through him and his head falls back against the pillows as he moans long and deep.

“It’s good?” Patrick asks, his voice sounding nothing like it did before.  
“So fucking good. I don’t even have it turned up all the way. Fuck. _Fuck!_ ”  
“Turn it up.”

Pete takes his hand off his dick, and without removing the vibe from his ass he twists the dial and turns up the setting. It’s still not up to the max, but everything intensifies; the sensation, his moaning, how fucking amazing it feels as those vibrations zip right through his prostate, and just as importantly - Patrick’s reaction. Patrick strokes himself that bit harder as he watches, bites his lip again, closes his eyes momentarily. He looks fucking beautiful. 

“Patrick, you’re so fucking hot. Wish this was you in my ass,” Pete says. “Wish it was your fingers. Wish it was you pushing this vibrator into me. _God_ , Patrick.” Patrick groans at that so maybe he’s imagining it like Pete is.  
“It will be soon. When we get time in a few days. Jesus, Pete. I really want to fuck you.”  
“I really want you to fuck me.”

Pete feels so damn dirty right now, so wanton. He stops jacking himself and runs his palm over his chest, teases his nipples, imagines Patrick doing it to him. He touches his neck, his lips and then repeats it all before going for his cock again.

“You feel good?”  
“So fucking good. But the vibe’s not as good when you fuck me.”  
“Even though it vibrates and I can’t?”  
Pete laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, even still. Going to get you a vibrating cock ring so you can fuck me for hours and we can vibrate together.”  
“Fuck, yeah.” And the thought that Patrick would be on board for that makes Pete push down against his vibrator that much harder.

Patrick’s keening, whining, and he’s so goddamn gorgeous touching himself. After the first time they did this together, after Pete finally convinced Patrick how hot it would be, Pete jerked off for days over the image of Patrick pleasuring himself. After years of Pete hearing Patrick in the bunk across from him, years of wondering what Patrick looked like when he comes, Pete finally found out and _it’s the hottest thing_. 

He has to hold on tight to the base of his dick, because this is all just a little too much and he doesn’t want to come just yet. He wants to see Patrick break apart first, spill his load all over his hand, it’s always so fucking hot. Oh god, he can’t even think about that right now. 

A thing that Pete sorely misses when they fuck around together long-distance, apart from the actual feeling of Patrick beside him - _inside_ him - is the smells and tastes that come with sex that are missing. The smell of sweat and come and Patrick’s vanilla shampoo, the taste of Patrick’s mouth, his skin, and his jizz; Pete loves them, it makes him dizzy with desire. Pete wants them, and even if there’s a smoking hot porn show right on screen, and he misses Patrick so badly. But he pushes that away so that he can focus on how goddamn hot Patrick looks on screen with his hair plastered to his forehead, his mouth slack and open, his cock hard and fucking gorgeous.

His panties are kind of in the way, and he really doesn’t want to take them off because he loves how the lace feels on his skin when he moves. But they’re restricting his movements, and though he mourns it, he has to stop for a second, pull the vibe out of his ass, and pull his panties down. He leaves them loose around one thigh so that he can still feel the texture of the lace, and so that he’s technically still wearing them.

He’s back in position quick as a flash, and his little break has done nothing to stop Patrick’s rhythm. Pete slides the vibrator back inside, and gets right back into stroking himself, bringing himself closer and closer to orgasm as he watches Patrick do the same, _oh god_.

He fucks the vibrator in faster and faster, his hand on his dick working faster too, he watches the screen as closely as he can, but it’s so overwhelming. He’d have come by now if Patrick was with him, if Patrick’s hands were all over him, but he makes do because this is so goddamn hot. 

Pete watches Patrick shift on the bed and then without warning Patrick moves onto his knees, those creamy thighs spread open, and his changed position means his head is no longer visible on screen. It makes Pete want to crane his neck to see Patrick’s face even though that’s obviously not how computer screens work.

Patrick’s working his hand so fast, and Patrick’s knees spread wider. He sits back on his heels and it’s the most gorgeous view. It only encourages Pete to push down against the vibrator, clench around it, fuck himself harder and faster. It’s so fucking good and he doesn’t know how much longer he can last before he comes.

Patrick’s whining on screen, so fucking hot, his body trembling. Pete’s so close, and he swears he can feel it in his bones when Patrick breaks. Patrick’s head is back, his neck exposed and Pete wishes he could bite it, lick it. And he’s so beautiful when he’s coming; completely undone, unguarded. Patrick’s still a panting, shaking mess when Pete can’t take any more, and he tumbles over the edge after him, the vibrator sending shockwave after shockwave through his body. He has to pull it out, it’s too much to take, his nerve endings on fire. 

He feels empty when it’s out, even worse when he remembers that there’s no one to share clean-up with, no one to swap body heat and sweat with as his heart rate comes down.

But he watches Patrick on screen; he’s relaxed and glistening and fucking gorgeous in his post-orgasm state, and it’s almost as good as in person. Almost.

“Really expensive porn,” Pete confirms, grinning at the screen.  
“Shut up,” Patrick simpers.  
“Like pay-per-view that only accepts platinum cards.” He’s sure of it. He props himself up on his elbow to look more closely at the screen. “I miss you.”  
“I miss you too, Pete.” And Patrick sounds so genuine.  
“I’ll be home-- I don’t actually know when I’m home. Time zones are confusing me right now, I’m all fucked out.” He grins at the screen when Patrick laughs at him. “But I fly tomorrow night in UK time, so I guess I’m home tomorrow in LA time too, but later? Or earlier?”  
“Just text me your details tomorrow and I’ll see if I can come pick you up from the airport.”  
“Awesome.” Pete bites his lip watching Patrick pull back on some clothes - a t-shirt and sweat pants - and he wishes he was with Patrick, because then he’d make sure Patrick stayed naked for a little while longer at least. He’d wrap himself around Patrick like a snuggling octopus and hold on until the world ended or one of them needed to pee or something. 

He can hold out until tomorrow, or the next day if needs be, he’s gotten a Patrick fix tonight, just enough to get him through; he’ll last.

“Will you laugh at me if I kiss the screen and pretend I’m kissing you?”  
“Yes!” Patrick laughs, his smile so wide and genuine that Pete turns his head away giggling, shy that he made Patrick laugh like that. “What are you, a teenage girl?”  
“Yes, I am. But fuck you, Stump,” he laughs. “I’ll keep my kiss then. I’ll give it to you when I see you instead.”

Patrick laughs again, heartily. “Fine. Save it ‘til then. What will you do tomorrow if your flight isn’t until the evening?”  
“Apart from shopping for a vibrating cock ring?” Pete asks as innocently as he can for someone with an orgasm-high.  
“Pete, I swear if you get papped in London buying a cock ring-“  
“Secret vibrating cock ring then. I won’t get papped.”  
“Fine. What else?”  
“Some _Welcome To London_ booty shorts?” he grins.  
Patrick laughs so hard that Pete’s heart hurts that they’re not together right now. “Yeah. Yeah I wanna see you in those.”  
“I’ll bring you British candy too,” he says and when he yawns the last words he realises that he’s been awake for approximately one million hours due to jetlag and staying up to play with Patrick. “I should sleep.”  
“Leave your laptop on and I’ll take a nap.”

Pete gets in under the covers still naked, and he settles the laptop on what would be Patrick’s side of the bed if he was here. Pete lies on his stomach, head turned to the side and the soft, Egyptian cotton comforter pulled up around him. “So we’re sleeping together. Aw, Pattycakes, I didn’t know you cared,” he grins, rubbing his face into the pillow and closing his eyes. 

All Patrick says is, “Go to sleep,” and then Pete does.


End file.
